This post is dedicated to my ninja friends, who will remain nameless. They are ninjas after all.
These days I look forward to every haircut. I even look forward to waiting for my haircut. At my current salon of choice, Blues Studio, you don’t just wait for your haircut but sip a hot beverage around a large coffee table covered in style mags, comic books (like Green Lantern!), and the occasional curiosity. During my last visit, one of these curiosities was a book entitled ___________________. To view the book, visit: The book who's name must not be uttered. As I flipped through this fascinating manual filled with strategies for including invisibility within your self-defense arsenal, I saw a number of things that I immediately thought everyone should know. First off, the author is, as Wikipedia describes him, “Caucasian.” Not only is he white, but he is a white mustachioed man dressed in camouflage. Secondly, I’m sure that you are all on the edge of your seats just waiting to hear how you can actually make yourself vanish like a ninja. So was I. In the section on “vanishing,” I discovered a page with a series of illustrations. It seems that the first rule of disappearing requires a very specific situation. Someone, a guard most likely, needs to be standing at least three feet forward of a darkened doorway. This provides a stealthy ninja with the opportunity to creep up, oh so sneakily, behind the guard. Once in place, the ninja can then “vanish” by stepping in between the guard and the darkened doorway (the text is not clear about how the ninja got past the guard unnoticed in the first place – another ancient secret, I guess). Thus concealed within the shadows, the ninja is in position to strike. The next illustration depicts the ninja’s hand appearing above the shoulder of the unsuspecting guard. Jen and I have dubbed this move “Ninja tap! Hyyyaaa!” and have taken to performing it all over the apartment. What’s so great about the ninja tap is that it is a diversionary tactic. You’re not, and I repeat, not trying to get the guard to notice you, like you do when you normally tap someone on the shoulder. Instead, the next illustration depicts the guard looking in the wrong direction, leaving the ninja with a golden opportunity to strike, using my next favorite move, ninja-punch-in-the-face!
I have left out all direct reference to the book so as to avoid being the next target on the author’s “shit list” – check his Wikipedia entry for further explanation of this perplexing ninja practice.
I would also like to mention that I have often been the victim of “Ninja tap” at parties. Though I have never caught her in the act, there is only one person who has been consistently nearby as I look around desperately for my attacker. We will refer to her as B_cc_. Do not be deceived by this person! Beneath her innocent appearance crouches a cunning warrior adept in the ninja arts.
3 comments:
This has totally made my day.
And when you come in next week for our meeting, I want to see your ninja moves.
I seriously posted this like two seconds before your comment appeared. I commend you on your ninja reflexes.
This brings to mind the post-cat-sitting-for-K-&-L dinner conversation over Thai food where we came up with clever psuedonym "Devon Z. Sniper" for you. A sniper may not be a ninja, but a ninja is most certainly a sniper, and his weapons of choice are stealth and cunning.
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